Grace Got Nothing To Do With It
by Aphiria
Summary: Sam hadn't had the chance to grow up normally. So it would make sense that he didn't have normal friends. And Gabriel could never be described as normal.
1. Mum's The Word

Supernatural has always been one of my favorite shows. I've watched it from the beginning and I feel that its time to pay some homage to it and some of my favorite characters. This story takes places three months after "Hammer of the Gods" (Season 5, Episode 19). I hope you all enjoy it!

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"Falling asleep on the job?"

Sam pulled the knife from his boot with accuracy only years of use could produce and pinpointed the voice that abruptly woke him from his snooze. Golden amber eyes stared back at him. No, those eyes sparkled amusedly at him. His stomached dropped and his mind raced.

"Gabriel?"

The archangel sat down opposite him at the library table that was scattered with books that Sam had accidentally fallen asleep on while researching.

"In the proverbial flesh."

Sam could only stare before his mind stuttered awake.

"I thought, we thought you were dead."

The trickster leaned back and kicked up his heels, nudging the lore book on dream eaters out of the way.

"Luci made a mistake. He let his guard down and I made a double and got the hell out of there."

Sam leaned forward, wary of the archangel, if _it_ was even an archangel.

"You're telling me you walked away from the devil without a scratch?"

Gabriel's playful demeanor died and a glint of anger flashed in his eyes. Sam could feel a glimmer of grace spark over his skin, white hot and powerful.

"Where the hell did you think I was for two months? In Bora Bora?"

Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't mean-"

Gabriel dropped his boots to the floor and interrupting him with a wave of his hand.

"Can it kid. I know what you meant. It's hard to believe but for some reason it happened. I got out. I hid out. I'm back."

Sam shook his head trying to push his thoughts and question into order.

"But Cas, he can feel it when an angel dies. Why didn't-"

Gabriel gave him a knowing smirk.

"Little bro was out of mojo from his little experiment with the Enochian signals that he carved into his own chest. Humans can't feel an angel's fall from grace."

The Trickster's face grew dark and Sam forced his questions back down his throat.

"It's not like I was in any position to even call to him. I was too busy trying to stay in one piece," his voice died down to a near whisper. Sam strained to hear it.

"My feathers are still ruffled."

Sam's heart went out to the guy. After all Gabriel had put him and his brother through the archangel did save them both from Lucifer and it was at very painful price. Sam regretted his accusing tone earlier.

"All that matters is that you're still alive. Dean won't be thrilled but Cas will be happy to know that you're okay."

"I'm staying hid Kiddo. We've got the upper hand here. Luci thinks I'm dead so I'm staying that way."

"But Dean and Cas-"

Gabriel shuffled a few books around, "No Dean and Cas butts. It's just me and you buddy."

Suddenly one startling reality met up with another in Sam's mind.

"How did you find me?"

Gabriel gave him a wink, a smile, and a finger gun salute.

"Top marks as always Sam."

The angel was still grinning at him and Sam had no intention of letting him evade his question. No angel or demon was supposed to be able to find him. Not with the Enochian symbols carved into his bones. Gabriel gave a heavy sigh as Sam stared him down with no intention of relenting.

"There's a loop hole Sammy my boy. And the fewer people that know about it the better. Even Cas and Dean."

Sam opened his mouth to speak but Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I know that they wouldn't give the information up to anyone but things slip. Memories can't be controlled in your dreams. I'm going to figure out how to close it. Until then mum's the word. Got it? I just can't wait to see the look on Lucifer's face when he realizes I played him _and_ put him back in time out."

The younger hunter could feel the shock on his face.

The angel smirked and ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully, "Team Free Will just got a whole lot prettier."

Sam felt a chuckle rise in the back of his throat as he smiled and shook his head. Somehow he liked Gabriel. He wasn't stuck up or uptight like every other angel he had met. It was probably all due to the fact that the archangel had been roaming the Earth for years interacting with mortals and divinities alike in the disguise of a Trickster.

"By the way, you're looking in the wrong place Sammie."

With a snap of Gabriel's fingers Sam was all alone. All of his books were gone from the table except for one. One that Sam knew didn't come from this library at all. He could smell it, the ancient leather that still gleamed and paper that almost glowed in its bindings. This book was older than this library, older than this town. A certain chapter was marked with the stem of a cherry lollipop.


	2. Sweet Little Cherokee

Dean barely had time to duck out of the way of a heavy book before his brother followed it through the door. The hard leather slammed against the holstered headboard and fell into the pillows that he had justy gotten off of.

"It's not a dream eater Dean. It's a _dream catcher_."

Dean gave him a confused stare, "Like, the things Indian's make?"

"Yes."

"The ones with the bright colored feathers that you hang from rearview mirrors?" He even made hand gestures.

Sam sighed, "Those are fake, but yes. Dream catchers. Real ones. Made by real Native Americans using real native magic. They are old and powerful and somebody had enough anger to curse a whole lot of them."

Dean pulled the knife out from under his pillow and tucked it back into the sheath at his waist.

"How do we stop it?"

That was the same question Sam was trying to answer for several hours. All of the victims killed in Devil's Lake died of heart attacks. What caught the Winchester brother's interest was a ten year old in perfect health that didn't wake up one morning in time for school. It took little pushing from Bobby to pack up and travel the short distance to look into things. But what Sam had stumbled upon with some divine help, that he wasn't even going to think about right now, was unsettling. The natural deaths that brought them to the quiet little North Dakota town weren't so natural after all.

The victims weren't possessed by demons like they originally thought. They were possessed by their own nightmares. At first Sam and Dean thought that a dream eater was entering the nightmares of the victim and sucking them dry, feeding on their fear. But now Sam was sure that it was a cursed dream catcher that snared the victims in their own nightmares. The sheer fright caused their hearts to fail. They all had a dream catcher of some sort in their homes, not just above their beds alone, which had caused the hunters to dismiss them in the first place. Now Sam was kicking himself hard for not putting two and two together. Of course there were Dream Catchers all over North Dakota. It housed one the biggest Indian Reservations in the States.

Sam willed him mind to stop rolling forward in thought. If all of America could pretend that what their forefathers did to the Native American Nations then so could Sam for a moment, even though he thought it was one of the worst racial atrocities in the history of the world right up there along with slavery and the holocaust… Sam took a deep breath. He needed to focus. He was lacking sleep from nine straight hours of research. And the research was nothing short of grim. But he didn't want anyone else to die, least of all a kid that was just starting his life.

"We could salt and burn all the dream catchers."

Dean grunted, "What is there, like 3 million of those things hanging around in this town alone?"

Sam shared his brother's enthusiasm.

"Or we can try something else. It's a shot in the dark at best but maybe we can pull it off."

Dean rubbed a hand across his face.

"What's behind door number two Sammie?"

Sam walked over to the bed and picked up the book, flipping to find the dog eared page.

"'_Dreamcathers are often made from objects that hold spiritual meaning to the particular tribe.'" _

He shut the book and stared at his brother who was deep in thought.

"How far out was that Indian Gift Shop?"

Sam was expecting a question but sometimes even he couldn't follow the leaps his brother's mind made. He watched as he pulled his boots on.

"Why?"

Dean slid his arms into his heavy winter jacket and gave him a half grin.

"I'm gonna ask some sweet little Cherokee what she uses to make a dream catcher with. Them I'm going to find it, salt it, and burn it to the ground."

Sam followed his brother out of the quiet motel. He didn't have the heart to correct him. The Cherokee Nation was nowhere near close to the Arapaho Indians that they needed to talk to but he wouldn't ruin Dean's positive thinking. Because someone needed to be thinking positive and I wouldn't hurt his brother to be the one to do it.


End file.
